love

Before Halloween I listed a holiday pin in my online vintage jewelry shop. It’s a whimsical moose on rollerblades, clearly hurrying while balancing a stack of red and green wrapped presents. Maybe he’s trying to beat-the-rush, move at the speed-of-sales, or make it to Christmas dinner on time. When I found and posted it, it made me smile. I took it as a comic nudge against the commercialization of the season and our robotic appetite for stuff-buying.

But unless we’re under eight, we know Christmas isn’t about the presents. It isn’t about a few magical weeks of a season, or one specific calendar date, either. While Christmas has different meanings for different people, both religious and secular, it brings for many enhanced connection and outreach to family, friends, and community.

The Christmas message is a message of love; a way of being. I aspire to the Charles Dickens sentiment to “honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.” The way I see it, we do that through our actions, which is why I’m worried about losing Christmas. We seem to be short on love right now. Shopping-frenzies, Black Friday and Cyber Monday bargains aren’t stealing the real meaning of Christmas. No, we’re losing that all by ourselves.

We’re losing the Christmas message of love when neighbors stop speaking to neighbors based on political differences; when houses of worship become murderous targets of hate; when fear replaces compassion for those seeking a better life; and when pipe-bombs threaten to permanently silence those who disagree. We’re losing it when toxic language and incivility replace dialogue and understanding; when school yard taunts fill the halls of Congress and are echoed on playgrounds; when lies replace truth; when our planet’s health is compromised for business gains; and when we don’t see each other and our differences as a strength.

I felt the malice immediately, arriving without warning via my website, with no return email. Her poisoned-laced words were intended to sting, and they did, although perhaps not in the way she intended. Mostly my heart ached with sadness for her long held pain.

At the bottom of the message was the name of an old friend I’d lost contact with years before. Her message accused me of betraying her trust decades ago. But despite the venom released at me, there was no mention or explanation of what it was that I did in my twenties that caused her to reach that conclusion, or why she held onto her anger all these years. All I knew was someone I still cared about saw me responsible for something that upset her.

The message haunted me, not because of what it said, but because I never knew I hurt her. I never knew there was festering pain attributed to my words or actions. Certainly, there are people I know I’ve hurt, but this was different. Am I accountable when someone feels slighted or wounded by something I did or said, or didn’t do or didn’t say, and I never knew it? How we perceive another’s actions, motives or intentions is subject to our interpretation.

A misty rain persisted while I wandered, nearly alone, on the grounds surrounding Blarney Castle, in County Cork, Ireland. Not far away was a tower remnant where the famous Blarney Stone is kissed by 400,000 visitors a year. My husband opted for stone-kissing; I was drawn to the gardens surrounding it.

It was The Poison Garden near the ruined castle walls that peaked my curiosity. A welcome sign stated the garden’s purpose was to educate visitors about the positive and negative aspects of poisonous plants; those “found both in the wild and in our own gardens.”

That morning, I learned that just a handful of people die each year from eating a poisonous plant in its natural state, but millions die from products made from those plants. The sign explained: “The plants aren’t ‘bad.’ We make them harmful by the ways in which we use them.”

I’m a colleague of Nan’s. And, I often post on Current Musings about work, life and the intersection of the two. Like many people the past few weeks seem full of unanswerable questions, confusion and sadness. In my search for some perspective, I typed – kindness – into google. Here are several of my findings:

According to Merriam Webster, kindness is defined as having or showing a gentle nature and a desire to help others.

A refrain in a popular song, Hands by Jewel – “In the end only kindness matters, In the end only kindness matters.”

I was born in Whitefish, Montana, leaving without choice at age three when my father couldn’t find work after the Hungry Horse Dam Project finished. But my grandparents remained and Montana stayed part of my life.

My grandfather was a mechanic on the red busses in Glacier National Park and I have great memories as a child hiking its trails, boating on Flathead Lake, and go-carting at my Uncle Ole’s wheat farm in the eastern part of the state.

As long as I can remember, Montana has been part of my life. Even as an adult, living in Pennsylvania with my husband and son, we’d plan most summers around a trip to Glacier. Eventually, Glacier became my extended family’s gathering spot for reunions every few years. So much so (continue reading →)

I’m a colleague of Nan’s. I regularly post here about work, life and sometimes the blending of the two.

On average Americans work 47 hours a week. Yet, according to a recent Gallup Poll – only 32% of workers are engaged at work. Plus, to some work is an unpleasant four-letter word. We spend more than a third of our day where we aren’t engaged. So, what to do about it?

I went looking for ideas and inspiration. Here’s what I discovered from a few successful entrepreneurs and respected thinkers – the biggest index for success is – find something you believe in and love to do.

“Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing you will be successful.” – Albert Schweitzer

“Really getting to do what you love to do everyday–that’s really the ultimate luxury. And particularly when you get to do it with terrific people around you.” – Warren Buffet

“You have to really love and believe in what you’re doing. I think that’s the most important thing. If you start to build something … it’s hard and you encounter a lot of challenges. If you don’t completely love and believe in what you’re doing, it actually ends up being the rational thing for you to stop doing it or succumb to some of the challenges, because there will be huge challenges that you face …” – Mark Zuckerberg

With Christmas still two months away, my youngest granddaughter, a first-grader, was helping me decide which products to promote on my online vintage jewelry shop. Her third grade sister, sitting next to me at their kitchen table in Colorado, was focused on mapping states on a new app I’d added for her on my phone.

When the youngest spied a Santa pin, she asked if she could “star” it so that it was featured at the top of my Etsy.com shop (Twinkling Star Vintage). From there, her talk that Saturday turned to Christmas and Santa Claus.

I was carefully parsing my words on the topic of Santa. I knew her sister no longer believed in flying reindeer and a red-coated sleigh driver, having discovered the myth by accident the previous Christmas. But, I didn’t know whether she’d shared that knowledge with her little sister.

On the day before our 40th-wedding anniversary at the beginning of August, on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean with a hundred guests there to celebrate, I’ll be officiating my niece’s wedding. By the time you read this, they’ll be married.

It’s a new experience for me and a bit out of my comfort zone. Not the speaking to a hundred people so much, but the tear-free challenge it poses. Let me clarify. I’m good at crying. I cry at weddings, cards, movies, news, stories, graduations, Christmas, and most anything that touches my heart. Some might label me a sentimentalist, an empathizer, or a soft-hearted person.

It’s part of who I am and I’m good with that; it even helps me as a writer. But sometimes my heart connection brings challenges. At my son’s wedding, I only managed not to cry by biting the inside of my cheek harder and harder until that overwhelmed-with-love-emotion was calmed. But I can’t bite my mouth while conducting a wedding ceremony.

While profoundly honored to be asked, the crying-question lingered after my enthusiastic “yes” months ago. How will I stop tears from coming when I (continue reading →)